


Everlasting Flame

by trekqueen



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekqueen/pseuds/trekqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through many trials and losses - Glorfindel and Ecthelion rely on their love for one another to survive it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eidolon_Writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eidolon_Writes/gifts).



> Many thanks Rhapsody The Bard for being a super awesome beta to go through the behemoth this ended up becoming and to the SinS admins for putting this challenge together. Most of all, many thanks to the story requester for plopping the plot bunny in my lap.

The forge was hot and stuffy from the many fires lit within and the smiths who worked tirelessly to refine their craft. Ecthelion gathered a sword and a dagger into a box where other weapons already were packed; these were the last two items he needed to bring. He covered the top and carefully bound the ends so that the lid would not slip while he walked. It was heavy but he could manage for a while. He rolled up several parchments and placed them in his satchel.

Cool air refreshed him as he stepped out into the twilight and let the breeze flowing in from the coast ease his warmed skin. He took a deep breath and could smell the faintest trace of the salty sea air from Alqualondë reaching his nose. Filled with renewed energy, the dark-haired elf followed the path from the forge back towards the city upon the hill. To him Tirion’s walls and towers reached into the heavens and stood white against the dark sky and tall mountains. The distant light of the Two Trees danced and sparkled off the city’s glass windows giving it the image of a multi-faceted jewel. 

Climbing the path leading to the gates, Ecthelion sighed as the activities and flurry of the large city swept over him. He wished he could stop to taste the sugary concoction one of the street vendors was selling, but he had an errand to complete before he could partake in what Tirion had to offer him. He shifted the box in his grasp and headed down another avenue that was less boisterous. Eventually he found himself outside the main entrance to the home to one of the Noldor princes.

“Good day. What business do you bring?” asked a sentry outside the open archway as Ecthelion approached.

“I am Ecthelion, one of the master smiths,” he explained. “I come at the request of your lord, Nolofinwë.”

“You are expected,” the sentry gave a short bow of his head and held his arm out toward the manor behind him. “Follow me, please.”

Ecthelion passed under the arch and kept his eyes on the elf in front of him. While he walked through the front courtyard filled with a garden of flowers and fountains, he heard a short giggle nearby and glanced to the side. A Noldo maiden sat beside one of the large fountains with a Vanya maiden as they sipped tea together. They both turned his way while he quickly strode through but he gave them a nod with a slight hint of a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

Ecthelion left the maidens behind him and continued to follow the sentry through a hallway until they reached a large study. A grand wooden table dominated the center of the room; however, he could tell it was not meant to be a permanent fixture since other pieces of furniture had been crowded together to make space. It had been brought there for the purpose of his visit. He placed the heavy box upon it and began to prepare. He opened his satchel and unpacked the cloth he would place the weapons on so that they would not mar the surface of the wooden table.

The sentry bowed, “My lord will be here shortly.”

Watching the elf go, Ecthelion took a chance to observe the room in which he was left: Nolofinwë and his kin were known for their love of hunting, thus several bows and spears hung upon the walls. Then there were the paintings of his family that adorned the white walls: his daughter and three sons. Faint footsteps on stone brought Ecthelion out of his reverie and the dark-haired maiden he had seen in the courtyard stood in the doorway with her lighter-haired companion. The painters had captured the image of Nolofinwë’s daughter perfectly.

“Ecthelion! What are you doing here?” she asked as she entered the room and took his hands in hers.

“Lady Írissë,” he grinned with familiarity and kissed the top of her hands. “Your sire has tasked me with some work and he wished to see what designs I have made for him.”

“Anything for me to use while hunting?” she asked.

“Sadly, no,” he conceded. “It is all for important matters that I am not at liberty to discuss. However, I did bring this for you...”

From his satchel, Ecthelion retrieved a small piece wrapped in cloth. He placed it on the table and removed the fabric covering. A silver bracelet studded with emeralds lay upon a cushion of velvet and he handed it to her.

“It is exactly as I wanted it,” Írissë smiled happily as she took it in her hands.

“A magnificent piece,” her companion said as she stepped forward to appraise the jewelry.

“Ah, I am so selfish and rude. Ecthelion, I want to introduce you to Elenwë,” Írissë said as she motioned to the golden-haired maiden beside her. “She is betrothed to my brother.”

Ecthelion’s blue eyes twinkled with recognition and he gave a short bow, “I have heard much of you, my lady. My congratulations to you in your upcoming binding to Turukáno.”

“My thanks to you for such kind words,” said a male voice

Turning to the doorway again, the three elves greeted their most recent arrival: Turukáno. He approached Ecthelion and they clasped arms to welcome one another as friends. 

“I see you have already met my beloved,” Turukáno said, sweeping Elenwë into his arms and placing a passionate kiss upon her lips as the Vanya blushed beneath him.

“That I have,” Ecthelion replied. “Are you to be joining your sire today in our meeting?”

“I am,” Turukáno nodded and turned his attention to his lady. “We will be stealing your dear cousin away as well so we all will go riding together another time.”

“Stealing? Never! I always am a willing partner,” another voice joined the room.

“Fie, Glorfindel,” Írissë clicked her tongue at him teasingly. “You assume everyone desires your company?”

“Nay,” the golden-haired elf smiled, his green eyes mirthful. “I know it for certain.”

Ecthelion held his breath for a moment at the new arrival. He had heard the name spoken before but had never met the elf in person. The son of a Noldo mother and a Vanya father; Glorfindel was known well among both of his Eldar brethren, yet more oft could be found in Valmar rather than Tirion. His sire was among the highest ranking of Ingwë’s council and his family held great sway in many matters.

“Glorfindel, this is Ecthelion,” Turukáno introduced the elves to one another. “He will be showing us his … artwork today.”

“You could say that,” Írissë smiled as she placed the emerald bracelet on her wrist.

“Impressive,” Glorfindel said with complete truth in his words. Then met the blue-eyes of the dark-haired elf. “You are quite the craftsman, Ecthelion.”

“My gratitude,” Ecthelion answered and held Glorfindel’s appreciative gaze. “I only hope our lord holds my other work in a similar regard.”

“I am certain he will,” Turukáno assured him. “I will see where he has gone off to while I escort the ladies out.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elenwë,” Ecthelion bowed politely at her departure and winked at Írissë. “We will discuss our trade for the trinket later, my lady.”

Suddenly finding himself alone with Glorfindel, Ecthelion felt himself at a loss for words to make polite conversation until Turukáno would return with his brothers and father. He took a moment to quickly evaluate the elf beside him: he was tall and proud, his hair was gold-spun from his Vanyar heritage, and he was far more comely than the average elf. Despite being highborn, he apparently did not flaunt his standing through his apparel. On the contrary: he wore a simple green tunic and a small ring bearing an emblem: the signet of the House of the Golden Flower.

“Would you like to see it?”

“My lord?” Ecthelion snapped out of his thoughts and brought his eyes to meet Glorfindel’s.

“None of this ‘my lord’ referencing,” the tall elf said with a flippant air. “Do you see anyone else here? We need not be so formal. Besides, are you not of the Aulendur?”

“That I am,” Ecthelion confirmed. “My grandsire is the patriarch.”

“Lord Mahtan, his is also a great house,” Glorfindel acknowledged. “He is the best of Aulë’s followers, albeit his greatest student has surpassed him... your uncle.”

“My sire is brother to Lord Fëanáro’s wife,” he nodded, wondering where this discussion of bloodlines was heading. “I do not need to ask of your kin, as your house is well-known to most.”

Glorfindel smirked and broke their gaze as he moved towards the table where smith’s box still sat. He smoothed out a larger cloth that Ecthelion had packed and laid it across the wooden table. The golden-haired elf brushed his hand over the hilt of several swords and daggers before selecting a few to place on the table. Silently he took one sword in its sheath and held it close to his face to study the craftwork. Ecthelion stood by, curious about Glorfindel’s study of the items, as he watched Glorfindel slowly draw the blade from the sheath: it was the finest of the collection.

“As I recall, your grandsire was none too pleased with your uncle’s decision to create things such as this with his great talent,” Glorfindel recollected. “Does he know of what you have created?”

“He knows of some but believes they are for the hunts,” Ecthelion replied. “He has not seen anything of this kind and nor will he for the time being.”

Glorfindel smiled at Ecthelion’s final words and finally turned his eyes upon him. It was not disconcerting under the other elf’s gaze, it was clear to him that the tall elf freely showed friendly amusement at his answer. Suddenly, Glorfindel approached the dark-haired elf with the sword in hand as he placed it back in the sheath.

“Mathan should be appreciative that his grandson is also endowed with his incredible skill,” Glorfindel commented as he handed Ecthelion the sword. “I have never seen anything that could compare to this, besides some of your uncle’s work. Some have tried to replicate but without much success. Yours, however, I would wish to have it. That is... if our Lord Nolofinwë does not claim it for himself in this meeting. I would hate to take the greatest of your pieces before my friends’ sire has yet to inspect your work.”

“I would be honored,” Ecthelion answered appreciatively and matched the mirthful smile of his companion. “Though, as you said, we shall wait to see if it is claimed.”

“Would it then be an imposition to have another made if that becomes the case?” Glorfindel asked while he watched Ecthelion place the sword amongst the others. “Though, I often share most traits with my sire’s kin, I have a fascination with the great works of the Noldor such as these.”

“I am certain we could find a fair trade,” Ecthelion said and turned to find Glorfindel close to him again. 

“Before I forget, did you still want to see my signet?” Glorfindel queried again and held his ring to the other elf. “You seemed curious about it.”

“Ah, aye, I was,” Ecthelion nodded and took the offered piece. “It looks to be a design of my sire’s.”

“That it is,” Glorfindel acknowledged. “My sire gave it to me upon my reaching the age of majority after he sought out your sire for his excellent craftsmanship.”

Studying the ring, Ecthelion immediately spotted his father’s signature mark on the inner band. The yellow-gold ring was simple enough, but the intricacies in the design made it more impressive: radiating coils surrounded the centerpiece of the golden flower as petals overlapped one another. 

“What sort of arrangement do you have with Lady Írissë?” the golden-haired elf suddenly asked.

“Pardon?” Ecthelion asked and looked to Glorfindel in surprise.

“What is it that you have negotiated for trade for her trinkets you make?” Glorfindel rephrased and laughed when he saw the slight blush creeping on Ecthelion’s face. “Did you think I meant those kinds of arrangements?”

“Nay, of course not,” Ecthelion stammered for a moment and averted his eyes. “She trades me in pelts from her hunts that I can use or barter for other goods.”

Ecthelion offered the jewelry back to Glorfindel, who gave him a sly grin as he reached to take it.

“You are an honorable elf, my friend,” Glorfindel said, but let his fingers linger a moment upon Ecthelion’s as he retrieved his piece.

A clamor of footsteps caught their attention and Ecthelion quickly wheeled around to see who joined them. He had not missed how Glorfindel held him enthralled with his gaze along with the lingering touch that sent strange currents through Ecthelion’s fingers. He was not certain what this young lord wanted, but he was gladdened for the interruption.

“I found my brothers and sire,” Turukáno announced as the others followed him into the room while he clapped his hands together gleefully for emphasis. “Now for business.”


	2. A Taste

Tired and hungry, Ecthelion wiped his brow with his sleeve and sat beside the small pond outside of his forge. He had been working long hours and finally reached a point that he could take leave to go home. Sighing deeply, he raised his canteen to his mouth and took a swig of the cool liquid within to quench his thirst. Eventually he would head back into the city to his home, but before doing so, he wanted a moment in the fresh air before he reached the confines of the city walls.

The apprentices under his tutelage and fellow smiths who had sworn fealty to his household had been helping him to fulfill the order made by Lord Nolofinwë for a cache of weapons. During their last meeting, the Noldo lord had been very impressed with Ecthelion’s collection and had requested many more to be made for his kin and for those under his house. He had been told that Nolofinwë’s brother, Fëanáro, had already done the same for his household, having created many arms in his forge to arm his sons and followers. Nolofinwë simply wished to have another smith to forge his armory, preferably of the house of Mahtan. 

As expected, Nolofinwë had claimed the sword Glorfindel had coveted from the pieces he had brought to his meeting. The golden-haired elf showed no disappointment and spoke no words of regret; he was content with the arrangement they had agreed upon before Nolofinwë had seen the swords. However, they had no chance after the meeting to discuss Glorfindel’s wishes. It had been several weeks since their introduction and no word had been sent nor had the elf shown his presence. Thus, it was a surprise to Ecthelion when he suddenly espied the faraway figure of Glorfindel trudging up the hilly path to the forge.

“Ah, Ecthelion!” Glorfindel called to him as he reached the crest of the hill. “I am glad to have found you here rather than having to search for you within.”

“Greetings to you as well,” Ecthelion smiled and raised himself to his feet. “What is the pleasure of your visit?”

“Careful,” he warned with a grin. “I may answer more truthfully than some expect when asked such.”

Ecthelion piqued an eyebrow of surprise and paused for a moment at his acquaintance’s words. Then they both started laughing at one another after the silence.

“You have such a way with bantering,” Ecthelion shook his head. “You have such an ease in conversation that sometimes one is not certain whether you tease or mean something else entirely.”

“That is the point,” Glorfindel snickered and reached inside his bag that he carried. “I apologize I have been absent and have not met with you to further discuss my sword. I have been lately in Valmar to help my kin prepare for Turukáno and Elenwë’s ceremony. In order to get away, I offered to be the errand boy to bring the announcements so that I would have an excuse to come to Tirion.”

Glorfindel found his quandary and handed Ecthelion an envelope. Practiced hands had written his name in calligraphy upon the white paper and Ecthelion opened it to find the details for the binding ceremony and feast. 

“I did not expect to be invited,” Ecthelion confessed.

“Why not?” Glorfindel said with a shrug. “You are considered friend by Turukáno and his siblings. Nolofinwë holds your family in high regard as well.”

“You speak truthfully,” Ecthelion acquiesced and placed the envelope in his pocket. “Though, I suppose most everyone would be attending.”

“Nay, the ceremony will be by invitation only,” Glorfindel explained. “That is why it will be held outside of the city and in the meadows below the Two Trees.”

“Then an honor indeed!” Ecthelion said. “As for your sword, however, I have something that I have been working on for you during your absence. If it is not suited for you, I am certain I can include it in Lord Nolofinwë’s collection.”

“I would love to see what you have created,” Glorfindel replied. “Is it here at the forge?”

“My shop in Tirion. I was just about to return if you wish to join me?”

“Certainly,” Glorfindel nodded and patted his satchel. “I still have the invitations to deliver there as I first came to find you at the forge.”

“I hope you do not mind if I stop for a meal to bring home,” Ecthelion requested as they took the path down the hill towards the city. “It has been a long time in the forge and I have yet to break bread since I awoke.”

“Never would I deny someone sustenance, especially someone as accommodating as you, Ecthelion,” Glorfindel smiled and placed a friendly hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Besides, I am famished as well from my walk from Valmar.”

“Why did you not ride? Would it not have been faster?” Ecthelion queried, it was quite a distance to take by foot.

Glorfindel had not removed his hand, but instead let it rest casually upon his back. Ecthelion realized to his own surprise, he did not want him to stop the warm gesture either. What was it about this elf that was so inviting and familiar?

“There is something about a journey with your own two feet,” Glorfindel sighed as he looked around them at the landscape. “While riding, one tends to rush through and not appreciate as much. I will sing myself a little tune and meet others also on the road who delight in a good song. All the galloping would make it difficult to keep a steady note.”

“Are you a minstrel?” Ecthelion suddenly asked. “It seems you have many hidden talents to add to your own reputation whilst you do praise others first.”

“A minstrel? Hardly. Although, my bantering, as you remarked earlier, may make it seem I think highly of myself,” Glorfindel conceded and squeezed Ecthelion’s shoulder with appreciation at his kind words. “However, it is all talk for the most part. I try not to be so vain.”

“Albeit we have only met twice now, I do not think such,” Ecthelion assured him. “You do not flaunt your standing like some other lords’ offspring do.”

“Neither do you,” the tall elf pointed out.

Ecthelion laughed, “Aye, but I work oft in the forges and one does not want to be burdened with heavy robes and accessories to appear like a peacock strutting about.”

“Not safe either, I imagine,” Glorfindel joined him in his mirth. “Catching fire would not be a pleasant experience.”

“There are always mistakes, even among the most trained,” Ecthelion said and pulled back his tunic sleeve to reveal a slight burn scar that had long since healed upon his forearm. 

Glorfindel stopped mid-pace and held his companion’s arm as he ran his thumb over the slightly discolored skin.

“Aiya! That must have hurt, sermo.”

Ecthelion shrugged his shoulders a little but he felt a stirring within him as a memory of Glorfindel’s slight touch at Lord Nolofinwë’s home. The sensations were even stronger than upon their first meeting.

“I was being reckless and in a hurry to get something done. Taught myself a lesson, though!” 

“I bet you received a stern lecture as well,” Glorfindel smirked and caught his eye.

“From everyone,” Ecthelion groaned. “Amil, Atar, my uncle, my grandsire... even my cousins saw fit to do so!”

“Well, that also means you have many who care for you and your well-being,” Glorfindel said as he placed his hand on the curve of Ecthelion’s neck. “I certainly hope you keep yourself hale henceforth.”

“I will do my best,” Ecthelion tried to smile but he felt it falter a little as he found himself again staring a little too long at the golden-haired elf. A sudden awkwardness came over him and he reluctantly stepped away. “Come, I think my stomach is getting the best of me.”

They spoke no more as they finished the final, short leg to the city gates. Ecthelion chastised himself inwardly for his strange reactions, as if he was acting like a clumsy adolescent. Yet, he could not deny it; Glorfindel certainly was more than friendly with him than most people. He knew of such pairings between the same kinds but had not sought one for himself. Nay, he had lain with a maiden before and also appreciated his fellow males from afar. None of his gender had been that brazen in showing interest and he found himself too inexperienced to attempt it on his own for fear of becoming attracted to someone who would not reciprocate it. Thus, Glorfindel’s casual nature with him made Ecthelion wonder if there was something else to it.

“Anything in particular you wish to taste?” Glorfindel asked as they passed through the market.

Ecthelion inhaled through his nose, “Ah, everything smells so delicious and I am so hungry that I want to try everything!”

“Ha! There is always time enough to come back for more,” Glorfindel chuckled. “Here, this cart with the minced pies has never left me disappointed.”

Taking Ecthelion’s arm, Glorfindel led him through the crowd, weaving between openings and chattering groups. A little bemused, Ecthelion decided to let go of his earlier qualms and live a little in the fashion that Glorfindel portrayed. They approached the vendor and Ecthelion let Glorfindel order what he deemed the most delectable choices. Once presented to him, they were miniaturized versions of the larger pies Ecthelion was familiar with, but were just as appetizing. The buttery crust melted in his mouth and was matched by the sweetness of the filling.

“I think we need some good wine to drink with this,” Glorfindel said as he packed two more pies for them to consume at their destination.

“The storefront for the local winery is this way,” Ecthelion motioned down the avenue through the mass of elves congregating in the square. “I will get us a cask.”

“If you mean to drink it all, I accept the invitation,” Glorfindel teased. “I will see what else we can bring.”

The good-nature of Glorfindel bewitched him and he could not help but find himself grinning from ear to ear. Despite his earlier hunger, he felt a renewed energy flowing through him as he entered the store and found a decent vintage. Once finished with his transaction, Ecthelion headed back to the square where Glorfindel had said he would be waiting. The golden-haired elf would certainly stand out in the crowd of mostly Noldor; however, this evening a few Teleri and Vanyar also mixed into the sea of heads. Finding a nearby fountain ledge, Ecthelion lifted himself up to get a better view of the square.

Within a few moments Ecthelion had spotted his friend and he was not alone. Findekáno, the eldest of Nolofinwë’s children whom Ecthelion also knew well, stood close to Glorfindel as they laughed over something said. Hopping down from his post, Ecthelion made a path towards his friends. As he approached, he saw Glorfindel handing an envelope - similar to Ecthelion’s own - to Findekáno. Even though Findekáno was brother to the groom, it was proper etiquette he receive an invitation as well. That was no surprise to Ecthelion, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw Findekáno lean in covetously to Glorfindel and say something close to his ear so no other would overhear. The golden-haired elf also tilted his head nearer to his companion and his face lit up with amusement. Much to his own dislike, Findekáno’s hand also strayed a little long on Glorfindel’s that held the envelope.

His heart sank and disappointment clouded his once happy mien. Shocked at his emotional reaction, Ecthelion took himself aback. How could he be jealous? He hardly knew Glorfindel and neither had spoken of any other regard they had for one another. Ecthelion shook his head to clear his thoughts and reminded himself he had no right to expect something from Glorfindel, nor be distressed by his interaction with others. Continuing his previous course, he walked up to the pair still conversing.

“So good to see you again, Ecthelion,” Findekáno welcomed him kindly. “Glorfindel says you have been toiling unceasingly.”

“I do believe Glorfindel may have embellished a little,” Ecthelion replied as he gave a slight bow of his head to Findekáno and he caught the slight twinge on Glorfindel’s face at the comment. Perhaps the golden-haired elf also noted the change in his demeanor. “However, I am striving to not disappoint your family.”

“Do not worry yourself,” Findekáno said as he clapped Ecthelion on the shoulder. “I must be off to other errands. I hope to see you at the celebration for my brother and his betrothed. You both enjoy your pies and wine.”

“Farewell,” Ecthelion said as Findekáno departed, then turned back to Glorfindel. “Shall we continue onward?”

“Aye,” Glorfindel nodded and followed Ecthelion away from the square.

“I saw you were able to deliver more of your announcements,” Ecthelion commented after a prolonged silence now that they had reached the less crowded street. “Were there many you were able to find in the square?”

“A few,” Glorfindel said simply. “I will see to the rest after our meal.”

“Here we are,” Ecthelion motioned to the storefront of his shop. 

Glorfindel followed his host inside and he glanced around the room. Ecthelion watched for a moment as the golden-haired elf looked through the trinkets and jewelry on display that several of the smiths in Ecthelion’s forge had made along with some by himself. One of the apprentice smiths was on hand to staff the shop and Ecthelion gave him a short bow of respect to the two lords. Ecthelion then led Glorfindel to the back and up the stairs.

“Your home is above the shop?” Glorfindel asked as they climbed.

“It is a simple place, but it is such an arrangement that I prefer. This way I can have everything in one place,” he explained once they reached the landing. 

Ecthelion took a quick perusal of his abode to make certain everything was in its proper place. He had not anticipated a visitor but luckily had not left it in complete disarray. Gathering several candles, he lit them and a torch upon the wall to bring light into the two room apartment. The kitchen took up a small corner while a small sitting room beside it looked out upon a balcony with large windows and double-doors. The bedroom was smaller and closed off to the side of the parlor.

Once satisfied, he set the cask down on the small counter in his kitchen and found some goblets in a cabinet. While he went about his task, he watched Glorfindel place the pies on the table by the couch and chairs. The elf had also found candied fruits on a stick and a grilled meat dish from the square while Ecthelion had been buying the wine. He brought the goblets over to where Glorfindel stood and offered one to him.

“To new friends?” Glorfindel offered to toast.

“Certainly,” Ecthelion agreed and they clinked their glasses before drinking the draught. “Before we eat, let me get the sword for you lest I forget.”

“It can wait until afterward,” Glorfindel assured him as Ecthelion placed his goblet on the table and moved to a nearby trunk.

“Nay, I want to know your thoughts first,” Ecthelion replied and pulled out the sword carefully, still wrapped in cloth. “If you have any changes, we can discuss it over the meal.”

“Oh my,” Glorfindel said softly as he lifted the cloth covering from the blade that Ecthelion held. “I do believe you have outdone yourself.”

Ecthelion beamed at the praise, “I am awaiting some leather from the tatter to affix to the scabbard. Then it will be complete.”

Glorfindel lifted the sword and held it purposefully in his hand. To give his friend some space, Ecthelion stepped back for a moment. He watched as Glorfindel checked the balance of the weapon and the comfort of the pommel in his palm.

“It is perfect, how is it that you managed to do so without my assistance?” Glorfindel asked.

“You and I are of similar frame and strength,” Ecthelion explained. “As my mother always points out, I am able to size someone and determine their fit very easily from simply observing them.”

“Ecthelion,” Glorfindel met his blue irises with utter amazement. “I do not know how I can show enough gratitude for such a piece of art. It is better than the one Lord Nolofinwë claimed. The craftsmanship is stunning from the metal down through the hilt.”

“I put all of my energies into items I make at request,” Ecthelion said, his heart warming a little at Glorfindel’s praise. “To do any less would be an insult to my own reputation and standing.”

“Well, this certainly raises the standard,” Glorfindel said and placed the blade back on the cloth Ecthelion held. “You will let me know when it is complete so that I may collect it?”

“Of course,” Ecthelion confirmed and placed it back in the trunk. “I do believe I hear my stomach voicing displeasure again. Let us eat all these wonderful treats you have brought!”


	3. Deliverance

Tugging at his robe, Ecthelion tried to make his clothing sit more comfortably but it was not being generous. He was little accustomed to dressing in fancy clothing; however, he needed to wear it while attending the binding of Turukáno and Elenwë. The border around his neck still itched, but he had survived the ceremony in his attire and now sat near to the dance floor at a table. A plate of half-eaten food sat in front of him along with an empty goblet that had been filled with wine. The earlier binding invocations had gone well and Elenwë was a beautiful bride beaming with excitement whereas Turukáno was steadfast and tall, looking quite noble and proud.  
Ecthelion had seen most of the extended family of both the bride and groom milling around the couple to give them well-wishes. Since he did not want to appear rude, Ecthelion made a quick greeting in the line of guests to at least let his presence be seen. His parents and grandparents had also been invited to the celebration and were wandering around with friends. As he looked around he saw that most of the guests were with old friends in deep, jovial discussions. Others spun and pranced upon the dance floor to the music being played by a small Vanya orchestra.

It had been some time since his meal with Glorfindel in Tirion and it had ended, in Ecthelion's mind, on good terms. His dour mood after seeing Findekáno with Glorfindel had certainly changed the tempo of the following hours, but Ecthelion had forced himself to put it out of his mind. He had seen Findekáno amongst the wedding party, however, minus the golden-haired elf at his side. In his constant perusal of the gathering, Ecthelion found it strange that Glorfindel had been absent thus far; although knowing him he determined that the elf was likely somewhere in the thick of things with his endearing personality.  
With a groan of frustration at the tightness in the shoulders of his garment, Ecthelion pulled off the robes and draped them over the empty chair next to him. He made a mental note to visit the tailors and seamstresses before attending another formal occasion.

“Cousin.”

Glancing up suddenly, Ecthelion found himself surrounded by Curufinwë, Turkafinwë, and the Ambarussa twins. They all took chairs beside and across from him at the table, essentially surrounding him. Turkafinwë tossed aside the robes Ecthelion had gently placed moments before into nearby chair.

“Gaudy clothing not suiting you?” Turkafinwë asked. “I do not care much for it either.”

“How goes it, cousins?” Ecthelion asked, wondering why they all were so focused intently on him.

“We were wondering the same of you,” Curufinwë answered tactfully. “We have heard rumors about you spending many busy hours laboring in the forge.”

“Making weapons,” Pityafinwë continued where his brother left off. “Or so the rumors say...”

“Our sire was a bit incensed upon learning about it,” Telufinwë added for good measure and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head. “I would avoid him here if I were you.”

“Why does he care?” Ecthelion asked, realizing the predicament he had. 

“The blades are not so much the problem,” Curufinwë explained fastidiously. “It is that you would not do so for him and rather for his brother.”

“Why would you desert your family thusly?” Turkafinwë demanded brusquely, and he knew his cousin all too well that he was simmering beneath the surface.

“I did not mean it as an affront,” Ecthelion informed him coolly. “I have my own forge now and someone sought out my work. Nothing more.”

“That is what you say, yet it appears you have abandoned our familial ties for opportunity,” Curufinwë pressed him.

“Suilannad, good fellows.”

Ecthelion turned his head around. Behind his chair stood Glorfindel, who had approached them unbeknownst to him. The golden-haired elf placed his hands on the back of Ecthelion’s chair and gave a warm smile to the sons of Fëanáro.

“Glorfindel,” Curufinwë said curtly. “What can we do for you?”

“I came to see how my good friend Ecthelion is enjoying the feast,” he replied and laid a hand upon Ecthelion’s shoulder. “I expect that all of you are doing so as well.”

“Your kin certainly know how to celebrate,” Telufinwë acknowledged as he sat up straight.

“We will leave you to visiting with Ecthelion,” Pityafinwë said as they all rose. “Farewell, Glorfindel.”

The four brothers gradually left their seats and Turkafinwë followed slowly, but glowered at his cousin before finally departing. 

Once his cousins had walked out of sight, he let out a long sigh of relief, “I thank you for you good timing.”

“It appeared tense,” Glorfindel observed casually as he took the seat Turkafinwë had vacated.

Ecthelion glanced to his friend as he joined him and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Glorfindel was impressively dressed for his family’s event: golden robes of the finest brocade draped his shoulders with inlaid jewels and glimmering threading while beneath he wore a silk tunic of white with the large symbol of his house embroidered upon it. A simple silver circlet graced his brow to finish off the ensemble. Never had Ecthelion seen a more comely elf.

“You could say that,” Ecthelion swallowed the lump in his throat. “Apparently my uncle has learned of my work for Lord Nolofinwë.”

Glorfindel waved it off and leaned on the arm of his chair so that he was close to Ecthelion’s ear.

“They are simply jealous,” he assured Ecthelion. “They only wished you had made such fine swords for them.”

As he spoke, Glorfindel reached out to lay his hand on Ecthelion's arm, but the dark-haired elf withdrew at the intimate gesture. Glorfindel paused to look at Ecthelion questioningly; suddenly more serious than Ecthelion had seen in the days he had known him.

"I would hope by now you know me well enough that I will always be plain with you no matter what," he began and paused before he continued. "The same I expect from you. Is there something I have done to offend?"

Ecthelion bit his tongue as Glorfindel's green eyes searched his for an answer. He wanted to look away, to not become enamored in their depths as he was before. Glorfindel's words rang true, he knew that, and Glorfindel deserved an answer especially after intervening on his behalf with the confrontation between him and his cousins.

"Apologies, I should have been forthright from the beginning," Ecthelion sighed and dropped his gaze. "You have been nothing but kind to me and I have returned distrust and hesitation."

A soft caress at his cheek encouraged him to raise his eyes again to meet Glorfindel's. Once more his breath disappeared as he looked upon the radiance Glorfindel emanated and he felt time stand still as they entered their own world at the empty table. Gingerly, Ecthelion reached up and laid his hand upon the one that cupped his cheek. He nuzzled his face into the comfort freely given and breathed in deeply to catch the unique scent of his companion who leaned ever closer.

"Do you desire this?" Glorfindel asked, his own voice wavering and thusly betraying his usual confidence.

"Aye," Ecthelion confessed, finally feeling the courage to speak it. "Though, I was not certain if you would reciprocate. You and Findekáno..."

Glorfindel's face brightened with realization and he grumbled to himself, "You saw that in the square. A long time ago I had sought out his attentions but he only wished to tease me along. I no longer want him. Yet he plays false advances still, even though he desires only a lady's touch these days."

"And your ... friendliness with me, that is not something you bestow on everyone?"

"I give freely to those who welcome it," Glorfindel explained. "However, with you... there was something different that stirred within me. I knew little about your inclinations and I thought with your familiar tone to Írissë that you two had shared more than just jewels and pelts."

Ecthelion laughed heartily, "She is much like her brother: a little of a tease. However, she enjoys a good challenge as an exchange."

"That is why I asked about any arrangements you had," Glorfindel smiled, matching Ecthelion's mirth. "It appears we both had some misunderstandings."

"Indeed," the dark-haired elf agreed, his heart beating fast at the turn their conversation had taken.

Cheer and applause suddenly roared in the air and cut through the moment between the two elves. They both looked upon the dance floor where Nolofinwë stood beside his son and the bride, motioning for all to become quiet for an announcement. Ecthelion and Glorfindel sighed then reluctantly rose in respect to the father of the bridegroom.

"Oh no..." Ecthelion groaned when he saw Findekáno standing beside his father with two items in hand. "I had hoped those were to be given in private."

"Well, this is a 'private' affair," Glorfindel commented and saw what Ecthelion had spotted. "I suppose your secret is out now about your magnificent sword."

Ecthelion gave a mock glare at his companion, "You truly enjoy being playful with your words and their meanings, do you not?"

"On occasion I am known to do so," Glorfindel winked at him then motioned back to the dance floor. "Take a bow; you are now the center of attention."

Nolofinwë had just gifted to Turukáno the sword the lord had claimed at the meeting with Ecthelion. To Elenwë, he gave a beautiful necklace of sapphires and diamonds wrought in silver, which was also something made by Ecthelion's hands. The elf lord lifted his hand toward where Ecthelion stood and clapped his hands, leading the assembled guests in congratulation for the couple but also in the gifts. Feeling his face grow warm from blushing, Ecthelion gave a low bow to Nolofinwë and the married couple. 

"I fear I am about to be sought out by many relatives who are in attendance..." Ecthelion said to Glorfindel once the scene had resumed to the dancing and revelry.

"Most importantly, your grandsire," Glorfindel determined, and then gently touched Ecthelion's arm. "Follow me, I know an escape."

"I do not believe there is anywhere here that will afford a hiding place," Ecthelion chuckled as he collected his discarded robes. "We are surrounded by open meadows that go on for many leagues."

"Not many. However, I know a place," Glorfindel grinned and led Ecthelion away from the dance floor and celebration.

They left the gathering quickly and followed a path that cut through one of the meadows. The Two Trees sat upon the hill rising just beyond the wedding celebration and the rays of their mingling gold and silver light lit the sky and landscape. Being that the feast was far from the cities, encampments for the visitors had been erected upon the plain to provide accommodations. The large tents dotted the land in front of them and Ecthelion espied his family's own placement further away, but they passed it by.

Once they were far enough away, Glorfindel suddenly stopped and turned to face Ecthelion who had also halted. Ecthelion took a sharp breath as the golden-haired elf looked upon him: the lights of the Trees made him and his clothing shine like a star. He felt his body shudder when Glorfindel came close and covetously wrapped an arm around his waist. Agonizingly slow, the elf reached up to caress his face again and drew Ecthelion against him.

"There is no elf more comely than you tonight," Glorfindel whispered. "You match the silver of Telperion and the twilight above."

"I believe you may hold that title tonight," Ecthelion replied, finding the words he did not realize he had within him as he tucked a lock of golden hair behind his counterpart's pointed ear. "I have never felt so drawn to someone before."

Glorfindel leaned his head into Ecthelion’s palm, and then pressed his lips to the hand and wrist without dropping his stare. With an unknown gentleness, Ecthelion let his hand drop to his partner’s neck and traced his fingers over the collar of the tunic to his back. The anticipation of what he knew was coming set his breathing to quick bursts and he silently urged himself to savor the moment he found himself in so that he would not lose it in a rush. Taking the initiative, Ecthelion reached his other hand around Glorfindel's waist, much as the other elf had done to him, and encouraged him to come a breath away with his hand at his neck. Their lips met innocently and tentative at first, afraid that the urges would rush and overwhelm them. The deeper they sought one another; the tighter their arms confirmed a long awaited embrace. 

Ecthelion relished the taste of wine upon Glorfindel's lips and the warmth of his hardened body against him. It was different in so many ways than when he had lain with a maiden: she had been gentle and almost fragile in his arms in their love play. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was strong and steadfast in his presence, which made Ecthelion feel as if they had the stamina to outlast time itself. A moan escaped from his throat when Glorfindel nibbled on his lower lip. Feeling the need to catch his breath, he pulled away and kept his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against Glorfindel's. He did not want to widen the space between them any further.

"Melindo..." Glorfindel's voice was ragged and needful.

Nuzzling his nose against Glorfindel's cheek, he let out a deep breath at the revelation that he finally had found what he had always wanted in a lover. He still desired more than the slightly chaste exchange they had, yet he did not want to sully this burgeoning relationship either. Feeling Glorfindel take his hand, he opened his eyes to see his smiling partner. Stepping away reluctantly, Glorfindel led him to a nearby tent where they could find privacy from any prying eyes outside. Once inside, he quickly took stock of its contents. Despite the remote location, a mattress and cushions were provided and seemed comfortable from first glance.

Tossing aside his formal robes, Ecthelion also divested himself of his tunic so that he only had his shift, leggings, and boots. In the meantime, Glorfindel had secured the tent entry and was doing the same as his friend in releasing himself from the restrictive clothing. Hidden behind some bags, Glorfindel unexpectedly produced a bottle and two small cups. He offered one to Ecthelion then uncorked the bottle swiftly before pouring the clear liquid.

"It is a new liqueur a kinsman of mine is refining," Glorfindel explained as he put the bottle aside. "The spirit is made from some local herbs and potatoes, I believe."

"I have not tried any lately," Ecthelion said as he breathed in the aroma. "They have usually done little to win me over."

"Then I must be a heavenly vintage to have done so with such ease," Glorfindel smiled devilishly before sipping from his cup. 

"You are incorrigible," Ecthelion chuckled and shook his head. 

"Hmm, I have been told that before," Glorfindel replied and moved closer. "How do you find it? Is it to your taste?"

"I think I need another sampling," Ecthelion answered wickedly.

Catching Glorfindel off-guard for once, Ecthelion claimed his mouth again with more fervor. He tossed his cup aside and wrapped his arms around his willing partner, one hand massaging Glorfindel's neck to urge their kiss deeper and the other around his waist to keep them flush against one another. He could sense in the way Glorfindel reacted to him that the golden-haired elf enjoyed the unexpected turnaround in play. The dark-haired elf slid his tongue over Glorfindel's lips, urging entrance and receiving it without denial.

Having also thrown aside his cup, Glorfindel made use of his hands upon Ecthelion's chest and the dark-haired elf relished feeling the nimble fingers through the thin cloth of his shift. Ecthelion murmured his enjoyment and his partner swiftly took to unbuttoning the clothing. Warm, experienced hands massaged and rubbed Ecthelion's skin and he felt himself losing control. He sensed Glorfindel move their center of balance and he obediently followed his partner’s lead. In another moment of surprise, he found himself on his back in one swift motion and upon the mattress amongst the cushions and pillows.

Beyond his usual control he moaned loudly, not fearing if anyone heard him beyond the canvas walls, and arched his back as Glorfindel suckled at his neck. Never had he experienced the sensations that Glorfindel enticed from him. The divine body that matched so close to his own lay heavily upon him with barely restrained, ravenous intent. 

Then something happened that he had not been accustomed to before: Ecthelion shuddered as Glorfindel ground his hips against him. Even though it had been through layers of clothing, he had not thought about the experience prior to their intimacy and it was wholly different than his time with a lady. His partner halted his movements, and he realized that his unexpected jolt made his partner pause and Glorfindel held himself up from his lover.

"Is this your first time with another like yourself?" Glorfindel asked quietly, there was no humor in his voice but genuine awe and curiosity.

"Aye," Ecthelion managed to confess and blushed. "Though, I have been with a maiden a few times."

Glorfindel raised himself to straddle Ecthelion. "You seemed so at ease as if you had done this before."

"I cannot explain it," Ecthelion began and ran his hands up Glorfindel's leggings. "It seems as if I should... that it is meant to happen this way."

"Let go of any apprehensions," Glorfindel assured him while he divested himself of his own vest and shirt. "I understand completely; however, I have no complaints with what you were doing so far. On the contrary, you are far ahead of where I was when I first had intimacy with another."

Ecthelion trained his eyes on Glorfindel, taking in every detail of him from barred muscle to flowing hair. He took Glorfindel's hand as the elf started to remove the silver circlet still upon his head.  
"Leave it," Ecthelion requested.

"As you wish then," Glorfindel said, a little amused at Ecthelion's preference, and then traced his hand down Ecthelion's chest. "I must say, though, all the time in the forges have made your figure somewhat of a rarity among the Eldar. I prefer it more so than the others."

Leaning covetously over his partner again, Glorfindel teased him with a light kiss and intertwined his fingers with Ecthelion's upon the mattress. Allowing himself to let go of all inhibitions, Ecthelion arched his back when his lover leaned his pelvis into him again but this time slowly. He let the experienced elf lead him and learned where he could place his hands. As the dark-haired elf began to educate himself on the contours of his partner; Glorfindel moved to his neck where he suckled at the sensitive hollows. A restrained sigh escaped him as his partner’s mouth moved lower, pressing his lips over the dips and peaks of his build that he had been complimented on before. A hiss of pleasure passed his lips when his partner’s tongue teased his nipples before he continued his journey downward.

It was then when he realized where Glorfindel was headed and how he had been expertly unlacing his leggings all the while. Nary a coherent thought or semblance of words would focus as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through his body. Searching wildly for some control, he reached out and found his partner's head and ran his fingers through the golden locks. It was the temptation, but soon he realized that it was a mistake to look down and see Glorfindel's ministrations: Ecthelion cried his partner's name as he climaxed.

Sweat beaded at Ecthelion's brow from the exertion and he swore he was soaring upon the clouds. He only became grounded when Glorfindel lay next to him and felt his partner’s hands upon his body to turn him thusly so they could face one another. The dark-haired elf smiled lazily between his short breaths while green eyes surveyed the result of their love play. He reached out to pull Glorfindel closer and let his hand drift down to his hip.  
"Strong enough for more than just a taste?" Glorfindel asked while letting his own hands brazenly map their way across his collaborator. 

"I am always ready," he smiled.


	4. Decisions

Ecthelion quietly polished the metal blade of his sword while he sat in his parlor. He could sense the tension in the air and certainly see it in the way Glorfindel stood leaning against the balustrade on the balcony of the apartment. Torches, more numerous than typical, spotted the buildings and streets to provide light for the absent rays of Telperion and Laurelin from the west. He knew his lover's heart ached still in the aftermath of the destruction of the Two Trees at the hand of the Vala Melkor and the demon creature Ungoliant. Ecthelion's soul was also pained at the loss, especially since it had been a place of a beginning for the both of them; however, he also grieved for the loss of friend to his family, his cousin's grandsire Finwë. Death was a strange and unfamiliar thing among the Eldar in the peace of Valinor, but now their whole world would never be the same after such desecration.

Placing his sword back in the scabbard, Ecthelion put it aside as he collected a box upon the nearby table. He retrieved his flute from within and put it to his lips. He started a simple melody from a song about the plains of Yavanna, hoping that Glorfindel would join him with his voice. However, Ecthelion could see Glorfindel lower his head and bend his back in distress.

“Not now,” Glorfindel pleaded, there was no anger in his voice: only agony.

Rising from his couch, Ecthelion joined his partner upon the balcony and slid an arm around his waist while laying his head on his shoulder. He brushed aside wayward strands of hair from Glorfindel’s ear as he nuzzled into his neck.

“Come inside, please,” Ecthelion pleaded.

Straightening, Glorfindel did as he was requested and took the place on the couch where Ecthelion had been sitting. The dark-haired elf joined him and took his hand in his, squeezing it to show that he was there for him if he needed it. Sad eyes looked into his deep blue ones and it hurt to see his lover so distressed. He tenderly kissed Glorfindel, not wanting to upset him overmuch with intimacy in the wake of the depressing events.

“I beg of you,” Glorfindel whispered as their caress ended. “Do not go east.”

“There must be a punishment,” Ecthelion replied, feeling his old rage from the passing events well up in him again. “Do not deny you feel it as well.”

Glorfindel simply shook his head and dropped his gaze. He held fast to Ecthelion’s hand that still clutched his.

“If you will not heed me, then go with Turukáno and not your cousins, at the very least,” Glorfindel requested, raising his haunted eyes again. “There is something dark that is growing in them. I do not want to see the same happen to you.”

“Join me,” Ecthelion urged him, cupping his lover’s face in his hands. “You told me of your adventures across Valinor, why not somewhere new? And with me at your side?”

The golden-haired elf’s eyes grew distant as he contemplated the different paths set before him. Ecthelion climbed over him to straddle Glorfindel upon the couch and kissed him deeply.

“I do not want to leave you behind,” Ecthelion implored, but softened his demeanor as he rested his forehead upon Glorfindel’s. “If you truly wish it, I will stay here.”

“Your words are true,” Glorfindel finally spoke and gave a heavy sigh. “If there were different circumstances for the departure, I would be the one at the front leading everyone to set out on a new journey.”

“My kin already know of my inclination to leave,” Ecthelion explained. “They do not intend to follow.”

“I know for certain my sire would not approve. Turukáno has already asked me as well. Yet, I said I would not go,” Glorfindel said and he released a deep breath. “How could I let you go whilst knowing the love I bear for you?”

Saying no more, Glorfindel held his lover fast to him and the dark-haired elf cleaved to him as well. He leaned backward so that he lay upon the couch cushions and Glorfindel rested upon him. Ecthelion felt his heart bursting at his lover’s words.

“Aye, I love you as well,” he whispered, it was the first time they had spoken such feelings to one another in their time together. "Do not despair; our bond will sustain us throughout our travels."

"When did you become such the optimist?" Glorfindel managed a chuckle.

"You have worn off on me," he answered, then nibbled on Glorfindel's earlobe.

"I will show you what needs to be worn off..." Glorfindel threatened and rose swiftly, dragging him to the bedroom.


	5. Forever Frozen

The cold wind tore through the collection of traveling elves wanting to break their resolve to reach the Hither Lands. They struggled onward, knowing that their destination was within reach if they walked on just a little further. The burning vengeance within them was what kept them going: the desire to bring Melkor to face his sentence. It was not only that: also to confront one of their own for leaving them stranded on the shores of Alqualondë to cross the icy wilderness after the Valar had cast them out for disobeying them. If they moved on fast enough, perhaps they could reach the safety of solid land before the cracking ice consumed them...

"Stay close, Ecthelion," Glorfindel warned. "That way we can hold onto one another if the ice opens up."

"Then we would also fall together," Ecthelion said dourly. 

Ecthelion knew Glorfindel was studying his face to read his emotional state. He had been the one set on going east, but it had come at a price. Before they had departed Valinor, his cousins had troubled him over his choice to join to Turukáno's household and it further fuelled their anger that they believed that Ecthelion held little love for his kinship. Glorfindel's concerns had come true at Alqualondë: when the Sons of Fëanáro, their followers, and some of those at the front of Lord Nolofinwë’s group committed a kinslaying against the Teleri. And for what? So many lives lost simply because the seaside elves would not give up their ships? The sands and waters were stained red with evidence of the mass killing and it made Ecthelion shudder to remember it. Such an act he was uncertain if he could forgive of his kin, but he certainly became sundered from them when they stole the ships while all rested. Now, he was alone when it came down to his family and all he had left was the elf at his side.

"Little Itarillë is faring well considering the extremes," Glorfindel remarked, and he was grateful that his partner had decided on not broaching the subject of his mood.

Turukáno's young daughter held fast to her mother as she carried her, a blond tussle of hair upon her shoulder wrapped in thick furs. Írissë wandered beside them, trying to keep her feet moving over the white slush. Further behind Glorfindel and Ecthelion, Nolofinwë strode by his sons as they discussed plans for the future.

"It is no place for a child," Ecthelion sighed. 

"Nay, yet there are a great many here," Glorfindel pointed out. 

"I pray the Valar have enough grace left to give for their sakes so that they live to see the east," Ecthelion sighed.

"Are you having regrets in deciding this course?" 

Ecthelion stopped and took Glorfindel's gloved hands in his, "I will never have any as long as we are steadfast. You are the only one who has been faithful and trustworthy with me since the beginning."

Glorfindel smiled and leaned forward through their bundled furs where both found small warmth in a kiss. Their moment was interrupted by the deafening sound of cracking ice and all froze in place trying to find where the breaking was. Experience had taught them that it was for the best not to move, just in case the freezing sea opened up beneath them. Screams erupted and splashing reached Ecthelion's ears, but all he knew was that the two golden-haired heads that had been in front of him had suddenly disappeared in the darkness.

"Elenwë!" Glorfindel yelled when he came to the same realization.

They both raced forward toward the abyss in front of them and could hear the cries of Turukáno behind them as he, too, ran to where his wife had last stood. Ecthelion reached the edge just as he saw tiny hands clawing at the snow and ice trying to climb out. Knowing that it was the child, he reached for Itarillë. Her grey eyes were frightened and panicked, before she sank below the surface. The water was so cold, but he held on and pulled her small arms to bring her out of the water. It was then he saw how Elenwë helped her daughter by giving one last push to help Itarillë stay afloat. Her eyes locked with his, grateful that at least her child would be saved, and she succumbed to the sea. Ecthelion thrust his arm out to her as well, but began to lose his grip on the little girl. There was no choice left to him. 

Turukáno was suddenly beside him and helped bring the little girl to the surface again. Gathering Itarillë to him as he fell backwards, Ecthelion was suddenly covered in blankets and furs as others surrounded him to protect the young child from the bite of the frost and elements. He looked beyond them to see that Glorfindel had managed to bring Írissë to safety as well, yet he quickly left her to the assistance of others so that he could return to the ice hole. Turukáno had plunged into the water, moving shards of ice all the while screaming his wife's name as he struggled to find her while his father ordered people to throw rope and other items into the water with that futile hope that they might reach her. By the naked fear present in Turukáno's eyes, Ecthelion realized that Elenwë’s soul was slipping away from her mate through their bond. Getting to his feet, Ecthelion went to Glorfindel's side and took his arm. His eyes betrayed the pain and fright that the others all felt.

"You cannot jump," Ecthelion stopped him. "The water is too cold that you will become numb as soon as you enter."

"We cannot leave her!" Glorfindel tried to press past Ecthelion. 

“She has gone,” the words choked in his throat. “Get Turukáno out before it is too late for him as well.”

Ecthelion could not keep him and stepped aside. He knew Glorfindel would not heed him entirely, but it would be enough that he would not dare brave the waves. Instead, Ecthelion clutched Itarillë to him and rubbed the blankets over her to create warmth while Glorfindel joined the others in the ensuing search and managed to drag Turukáno out of the freezing water with assistance from others. Itarillë sobbed quietly, having fallen asleep on his chest from the exertion to survive. Írissë finally found her way to him, her face showing the fear she must have realized of how close to death she had come, yet also knowing her dear friend was gone. He held out his arm to her and brought her close as she reached around him for comfort.

“I am just so tired that even my tears will not fall for her,“ Írissë whispered and simply hid her face upon her niece's head and Ecthelion's shoulder, her body shivering yet not from the cold anymore.

Eventually Turukáno, wrapped in blankets to ward off the chill from his time in the dark waters, sank to his knees and held his face in his hands while Findekáno hugged him tightly. The scene that unfolded before him spoke of an unspeakable grief: Nolofinwë paced the ice at a loss for words to speak to his son while his youngest son, Arakáno stood silently staring at the black water. Glorfindel was the only one who still traced the edge looking for any sign of his cousin, but even he finally came to the conclusion there was nothing else he could do. He came to Turukáno's side, whispering words Ecthelion could not hear, and helped his friend rise to his feet. Turukáno took several deep breaths and came to Ecthelion to take his daughter into his arms.

"Thank you, selmo," was all that the prince could manage to voice.

Bowing his head, Ecthelion acknowledged his gratitude and that Turukáno meant it far more than the simple words. Tears streamed down Turukáno's face as he kissed Itarillë's head and carried her away. Írissë followed as Arakáno led her after their brother. In their wake, Glorfindel stood before him appearing defeated and drained.

"You tried," he said as he pulled Glorfindel into his embrace, holding him as tightly as he could muster. "We all did."


	6. Isil and Anar

Upon the arrival of the Noldor in the east, a strange yet familiar light rose in the sky above them to brighten the twilight curtain. The silvery appearance reminded them all of Telperion and soon it was named Rana, the Wayward. The awe-inspiring sight brought new hope to the weary travelers and eased some of their wounded hearts of the pain and grief from their long journey. They had rested long once reaching solid land and they found a bountiful valley to serve as a temporary encampment where resources were aplenty. 

Ecthelion had been heartened to see Glorfindel's demeanor change for the better after the Rising, he had become worried at how distant his lover had become since the death of Elenwë and others who had followed her after she passed away. He had begun to believe Glorfindel was regretting his decision in joining Ecthelion on the move east, and that his insistence had led them to their doom. Yet, when the new light rose, he saw how Glorfindel gazed upon it with wonder and a renewed hope in his eyes.

The optimism of a new world was nearly dashed as the Dark Lord’s evil monsters came upon the host in an ambush. They had not been prepared to be set upon so quickly and they moved into a defensive posture to protect the women and children at the rear. It was then that Arakáno had sallied forth with a great war cry and sent the orc army reeling in retreat from his onslaught and killing of the orc captain. Others followed in his wake and slew many of the foul creatures, but Arakáno was himself hewn down in the battle.

During the battle, Ecthelion had let out all of his anger, grief, and need for revenge in order to clear his way through the villains until none remained in his path. His sword sung with each clash upon the blade of a foe, and cut through the thin armor and shields with ease. He roared his voice loudly with each blow he had swung and his throat became hoarse. Covered in grime, sweat, and the black blood of the monsters, Ecthelion never felt more alive and aware than before: his hands still vibrated from the grip on his sword, the smell of the upturned soil under his feet still filled his nose, and the aura of camaraderie from those who became warriors beside him raised his spirits. With the host of Eldar soldiers, Ecthelion joined in sending them scurrying north until all but a handful of the monsters were bloodied on the earth. When that was complete, they returned to their families who had remained behind to await news after the warriors had clamored on the heels of the retreating enemy.

Following in the wake of Glorfindel's revival and the end of the battle, Ecthelion pondered about the intense stare he could feel upon him. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Glorfindel trailing a little ways behind him. Findaráto and Angaráto, sons of Arafinwë, chattered incessantly and kept Ecthelion busy with their discussion as they marched back to where the women and children awaited them. The impressive resilience of Ecthelion's weapons was proven by those who wielded them by the house of Nolofinwë and now the house of Arafinwë was interested in acquiring some of their own. The family of Nolofinwë was in the rearguard consoling one another over the death of Arakáno.

Once they arrived back to the encampment, Findaráto and Angaráto bade Ecthelion farewell as they and their soldiers were welcomed as heroes. He looked back to find Glorfindel in his vanguard as people reached out to thank him by touching his armor while he passed. Much to his surprise he found Glorfindel close behind him: his eyes bore into his with almost a feral intent.

Glorfindel took his hand and led him away, "Follow me, quickly!"

"What is the matter?" Ecthelion queried him as they wandered from the camp into a thickly wooded glen.

"Absolutely nothing," the golden-haired elf-lord simply answered.

Ecthelion remained silent while they moved deeper and reached a small creek that wove through the thick evergreen wood. Without warning, Glorfindel shoved him against the large trunk of the nearest tree. As the wood scraped against his armor, he came under assault from his lover as Glorfindel pinned him down and hungrily assailed his mouth. The twist of events caught him off-guard; however, he had no complaints. On the contrary, it had been some time since he and Glorfindel had been intimate, thus such a tryst was more than welcome.

Finding his strength eventually, Ecthelion rolled his hips against Glorfindel's, causing the other elf to moan loudly and buck his hips into his. Their armor kept them from appreciating the growing excitement between them and Glorfindel grumbled as he stepped back hastily to divest himself of the metal plating while Ecthelion did the same. However, Glorfindel did not anticipate Ecthelion would be faster at the task. 

In a shift and leggings, he pounced on Glorfindel, rolling him to the ground and used the weight of his body to hold him down. Swollen lips battled for dominance but Ecthelion had the advantage. The same heightened sensations still thrummed through him as he overtook Glorfindel: the way his lover's body reacted to his touch, the soft cushion of moss they had landed on, scented leaves stuck in Glorfindel's hair, and the rushing water of the stream beside them. Squirming under his hold, Glorfindel reached his peak and groaned into Ecthelion's mouth with wild abandon.

A bright light lit up the world suddenly and Ecthelion saw through the canopy that the heavens were alight with a golden glow. He squinted against the blinding orb in the sky but looked upon Glorfindel below him. With ragged breaths, Glorfindel lay spent while his hair glowed with the radiance from above and the beaded sweat covering his skin sparkled like jewels. The veil of darkness had been cast away and Ecthelion remembered a day, it felt like long ago, when Glorfindel had looked so similar in brilliance standing in Laurelin's shine

“Come, help me,” Glorfindel gently urged him to let him sit up.

Then kneeling before one another, Glorfindel helped him out of his clothing before he was led to the water's edge. They both looked up to the sky, a bright blue ceiling greeted them with wispy clouds.

"What brought this reversal of yours?" Ecthelion asked, watching intently as Glorfindel slid into the chilled water.

Glorfindel reached out his hand to him and drew him close in the stream, "When I saw you in battle under the new silver light, I could not look away. You fought with such power... you were dangerous. It was a side I never saw of you before."

"You were quite the fighter yourself," he smiled devilishly. "Though, I had thought I knew how comely you are but now, I see there is so much beauty I have missed."

The awakened senses that Ecthelion had since the battle began to fade away, but he was too exhausted from all of his exertions. He simply wished that this moment could last longer and knew it could not. The water came up to their navels, yet Glorfindel submerged himself further and beckoned Ecthelion to join him in a relaxing respite by reclining in the creek. Enjoying how the way the water rushed over him and washed away the grime and filth of the day, Ecthelion dipped his head back soak his hair. Feeling the need to touch his lover once more, he reached over and took Glorfindel's hand beneath the surface. They would survive this new world well with one another.


	7. Loss

The ravine walls made the path narrow and the passage slow to traverse with a large host, but there were less now than before. Ecthelion glanced behind as he rode along leading his soldiers back to Gondolin, the hidden city. They had fared somewhat better than Findekáno's followers and had managed to retreat to the mists in the pass before they were overcome by their enemies. Ulmo certainly had a hand in assisting their escape, but the ultimate sacrifice had been made by the two Edain men who had once been boys in Gondolin. His heart ached at their loss, Húrin and Huor had been children of Gondolin as well even though their stay had been brief. Huor had spoken words of hope to Turukáno upon their parting, almost prophetic, but Ecthelion knew not what to make of it.

Looking far ahead, he could see Glorfindel riding upon his own horse next to Turukáno as they spoke closely. Their longtime friend had now become the High King of the Noldor in the east and he carried the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders already. Knowing him well, Ecthelion could see Turukáno purposely standing tall as he led his army back to their home. However, there was a slight heaviness upon his frame. His new title came at a terrible cost: his family was completely gone, save Itarillë. There was this strange son of Írissë, Maeglin, who was also riding near to Glorfindel and Turukáno. Despite being at the right-hand of Turukáno, he was still kept at a bit of distance. Findekáno had sired a son, Ereinion Gil-Galad, only the child had been born but a few years previously. Much to Turukáno’s relief the child had been sent to foster with the shipwright lord Círdan before the Union of Maedhros took place so that he could be protected if matters went amiss. Arakáno, Nolofinwë, Írissë, and now finally Findekáno who fell in battle against Balrog demons: Turukáno knew that Morgoth had his eye trained upon him to find him now.

With a nod, Ecthelion gave notice to the elves who manned the Gate of Steel, the final protection in the passage before the green valley would open up to them. He was, after all, the Warden of the Gate and had seen to assigning several soldiers to remain behind to ensure his beloved city was still protected. Some had balked at not being able to partake in the glory of war, while the newer recruits were gladdened to have some duty assigned to them since they were not quite ready yet for full on fighting. Both groups stared sadly and without regret upon seeing so few return through the gates. The walls widened and they came out into the beautiful valley with the mountains surrounding them. Ecthelion could see Thorondor, the great eagle, flying high in the sky with his companions as they gave a forlorn cry of welcome at the return of the army. Gondolin still gleamed like a white jewel - unsullied and shimmering. 

Upon reaching the city after riding across the valley, Ecthelion could see people standing at the ramparts, but there was no cheering this time. Only sad faces and lamenting silence greeted them while some of the warriors did see loved ones who burst forth to cling to them with relieved wails. Some broke formation to pause and give a consoling embrace, then quickly returned to their path. Being their leader, he would not chastise them for it and he would keep their dismissal discussion brief once they reached the barracks. This day was meant for all to reunite with those who survived, including himself.

Trudging home after releasing his house's soldiers from duty, he wearily dragged his feet the short way to their house. As it came into view, he could not help but think back to the time when he and Glorfindel had helped in building it upon their move from Vinyamar. It had been an exciting day when they finally had their own abode to share rather than separate rooms within the palace as it had been at the coastal city. Their time in the white-stone city had been joyous, but it was still plagued with occasional tragedies. Their tranquility of the vale protected them not just from threat of attack, but also left them with a false sense of peace while their kin elsewhere were falling to the Dark Lord. Now the realization upon learning the truth of the outside world came at a terrible price to him.

Once he opened the front door, he found house was dark and empty, and everything was still in the place where he had left it upon his departure for battle. Yet he could not shake off this alienated feeling: he felt like a ghost wandering through his home and wondered if it all would have been left thusly if he and Glorfindel had never returned, their furniture and possessions surrounded for all time by dust and silence. Shaking his head, he wandered up the stairs to his bedroom and began removing his armor as he drew a hot bath. Mingled blood of Elda and Orc alike stuck to the metal, friends and soldiers who had died beside him fighting the monsters. He tossed everything aside in the corner of the bedroom to send out for cleaning the following day; although, he almost wanted to simply discard the entire suit due to it being defiled. 

Steam rolled across the room as the heated water poured into the basin. Ecthelion was always amazed at the craft of the builders who discovered the plumbing to bring the warm water from the deep hot springs: it was a luxury he never took for granted. This day he most certainly appreciated it and did not mind the scalding temperature as he gradually lowered himself into the bath. More than ever, he wanted to rid his skin and hair of any telltale residue of the past week. He took a breath and submerged his head beneath the surface. Suddenly, the cooler water mixed through and he sat up to see Glorfindel sitting beside the large bathtub.

“Do you want to burn yourself with such hot water?” Glorfindel chided him, yet his voice carried a touch of worry.

“I have never been afraid of burning, you know that well enough,” he managed to say. “Do not worry yourself, it is of no self-inflicted punishment.”

“I certainly hope not,” Glorfindel spoke softly, starting to toss his own armor to the floor. “And you are right, I know all too well. I saw that firsthand when you practically were scorched by a fire drake, and then rode after it without a second thought.”

Ecthelion tried not to think about that moment from the battle, but the images came back to his memory: the elves within an arm-span distance from him burned to charred skeletons as the young dragon swooped from the sky to lay siege upon their host. Had he been but a meter closer, he would have joined them in their agony. What followed as a need of vengeance for them and had sought it out by bringing the dreaded creature to its own death.

“I was not close enough to assist Turukáno in saving his brother,” he answered quietly, looking up to meet Glorfindel’s eyes as he tried to scrub with the soap he had found on the ledge.

“Findekáno was surrounded,” the golden-haired elf explained as he tossed aside his shift and leggings, then leaned on the edge of the basin to come eye to eye with Ecthelion. “There was nothing we could do - not even Turukáno possessed the might to break the line to reach him. The Balrogs were too many as well.”

“I failed,” Ecthelion said simply. 

Glorfindel caught his face and turned it so that he was forced to look at him, intense green eyes flaring with fear and pain but no anger.

“Would you have rather died upon that charred plain in a hollow attempt?” Glorfindel demanded. “The Valar themselves would have had to intervene to make the difference.”

“Nay, I do not wish my end,” he tried to calm Glorfindel and took his hand in both of his. “It is my purpose set before a king and my friend, not to mention all of those who rely on us to protect them, to do all I can to rid this land of evil.”

“That is mine as well,” Glorfindel said, his voice strained as he leaned his face upon Ecthelion’s grasp. “Yet, they still need us now more than ever. Where will they be if not for us in the vanguard?”

“I accept that,” Ecthelion said, he had more to say but he wondered if Glorfindel truly understood what he was trying to convey. “Come, join me.”

“Finish your cleansing,” Glorfindel offered. “I will draw my own afterward as it seems there is little clean water left as it stands.”

“True words,” he smiled a little and finished his scrubbing as Glorfindel gathered a towel for Ecthelion and another for himself.

Draining the water darkened with filth, Ecthelion lifted himself out of the basin and pulled the cloth around him. Glorfindel drew him near and kissed him passionately. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “Always know that.”

“As I do you,” Ecthelion replied. “Make fast your bath for I wish to live well this night with you.”

Glorfindel winked at him as before he walked out the door


	8. Duty

Screams and wails mixed with roaring and the clashing of weapons within the walls of Gondolin. Fires raged upon roofs from arrows raining from above and streams of fire breathed by the fire drakes, which caused the white walls to be painted red and orange in the twilight. Ecthelion stood by near to the Square of the King awaiting Turukáno’s orders and his house’s soldiers were anxious to meet their enemy. For now, they played their flutes, hoping to perhaps drown out the chaos beyond the walls and bring some comfort to those hiding nearby. Turukáno had held his council earlier and had instructed his captain to keep his warriors in reserve until they were needed, in case the other houses failed in keeping the gates and walls secure. He and Glorfindel had spoken against Lord Salgant and Maeglin's demand to stay within the city, and had supported Lord Galdor and Egalmoth’s suggestion to meet Morgoth's forces upon the open field in the valley. Yet, Turukáno still believed his beloved city would hold and instead followed the counsel of his sister-son.  
Ecthelion wondered about Glorfindel and how his forces fared. The golden-haired lord had been dispatched to the east, the opposite side of the city from where he waited. They had left the council chambers together but parted ways after a long embrace and kiss. It had been a while since Ecthelion had received word on the current status of the battle and he began to worry if messengers may have been caught en route. It was then that he saw the banner of Turukáno’s vanguard and heard a soldier blowing the horn upon his entrance through a small alleyway.

"The King calls you forth to assist Lord Tuor as he approaches from the south," the elf informed him. "The north gate has fallen!"

"Swords and spears!" Ecthelion called out. "Northward!"

Heeding his orders and ceasing their flute playing, the soldiers followed their lord as they marched to meet the Adan, son of Huor and the husband of the princess Itarillë, and his own warriors of the House of the White Wing. It was not long until they reached the first creatures that had broken through the lines at the gate. Ecthelion yelled a battle cry as his warriors swelled forward and slew the monsters that met them. One after another met their end by his sword and he found himself in a haze where the killing never ceased. He had begun to realize their opponent had moved their enemy host behind the lines they had once held and soonest Tuor's men of the White Wing stood beside them as they sallied towards the gate.

"My Lord!"

Ecthelion espied Tuor in the mass of fighting, "Keep the momentum, we can retake the gate!"

"Aye! Swing wide to cut-off the gap!" the mortal man yelled over the commotion.

Motioning to his lieutenant, Ecthelion instructed some of his followers take another passage to secure the last few openings that could circumvent their defensive line. They continued to move forth but as they neared the gate, he could not see his lieutenant and the segment who followed him. Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet quaked and he looked up to see a great hammer slam into a corbel where the gate had once stood. Stones and debris flew around him and Ecthelion scrambled to get out of the way. Several Balrogs entered the city and a dragon coiled over the tower that had just fallen beside him. Smoke and steam breathed out of the mouth of the fire drake and the Balrogs burned all that they found on their path with their constant flames, horns and claws threatening to shred any who dared confront them.

Tuor's men surged toward the dragon but several fell immediately from the explosion of fire from the mouth of the beast. More managed to take on the serpent to kill it. Ecthelion raised his sword to rally his men towards the mass of foul monsters and he quickly slew two of the orc captains that rushed at him. He heard Tuor's axe sing in the air beside him as it cleaved an orc helmet in two. Behind the heap of orc bodies blocking the gate, several Balrogs climbed up and tried to smite him with a hammer, but the weapon was too heavy to catch a spry elf. Easily jumping out of the way, Ecthelion brought his sword down and severed the hand of the demon. As it screamed its terror, the elf launched himself into the air to swing his sword down upon its exposed neck. Once he landed, several orcs rushed him hoping he would be unprepared for their attack, but his sword slit their necks to the bone. A dozen Balrogs followed in their wake and the soldiers were starting to falter under the onslaught. Then Ecthelion saw the gap where his lieutenant was meant to be and orcs were slipping through.  
"We need to fall back and reform the line!" he called over to Tuor. "Draw them towards the fountains!"

Tuor nodded and blew his horn to signal the command and Ecthelion's squire did the same. If they could get to water, they could use it to their advantage against the fire-based demons. The battle intensified and it became clear to him that Morgoth's host must have realized their plans and tried to block the retreat with a sally to overwhelm them. Before he knew it, he found himself on the ground after being knocked aside by the mace of a Balrog. He spotted a nearby spring less than an arm's length away. He reached out his sword to place it within the pond, and noted that it was not a lot of water, yet it may be enough to help him. Rising up, he swung his wetted blade at the Balrog that had tossed him aside and he sliced through the thin armor and fire-flesh of the creature. It fell with a roar and he used his momentum to come at the next Balrog just beside it; however, the creature saw him side-step and met Ecthelion's sword with its own. Using its own inertia, it brought another thrust that broke the elf's shield and in a quick move, it slung out its whip at the beleaguered elf. The tendril of fire caught Ecthelion along his shield arm, sending burning heat through his armor plating and into his skin. With a cry, Ecthelion pulled his arm back despite the agony he felt and yanked the whip of his foe. The Balrog roared in surprise and fell forward onto Ecthelion's sword.

Ecthelion felt light-headed and he realized he could not raise his left arm, there was only pain and a dead weight. The whip was still wrapped around his shoulder and lower arm, but he could not reach it with his other hand as he began to fall. His knees gave way and darkness started to overtake him while the city and sky spun in his vision. He thought he saw Tuor's face above him at one point, but the black swallowed him and his consciousness. Splashing and wetness was on his face and he heard a voice far away calling his name. Drink! it urged him and he felt liquid in his parched mouth. The hazy darkness still consumed him and he thought he was floating; however, a voice calling his name kept him grounded and the more he focused on it, the more he came out of the fog.

"What happened to him?"  
"A Balrog whip wrapped around his arm. He is still alive but faintly."

"Hark! The Golden Flower arrives!"

The voices scrambled together for Ecthelion and he thought he heard more clamor of swords clashing and axes hitting chainmail. Then he felt a gentle warmth, one very familiar to him, and he was lifted carefully. His helm was removed and strong hands trembled while caressing his face. Ecthelion struggled to awake, but all he could manage was a moan of discomfort as pain reached his mind while trying to rouse himself. Soft lips met his and new energy surged through him.

"Ecthelion, I am here."

"Lord Galdor, the entrances are secure."

"We must plan our next move. Where are the other lords? Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Tuor, myself... where is Salgant?"

"None have seen him since council. Some of his soldiers joined mine at the last retreat from the Great Market as he did not relay the King's order to them to join me. We took heavy losses because of this."  
"Rog and his house fell taking back the gate. Penlod is gone as well. Ecthelion managed to slay three of the fire demons before he fell."

Ecthelion took a deep breath and lifted his heavy eyelids. Before him he saw his fellow surviving lords of the great houses of Gondolin tallying their numbers and deciding their next move. Holding him close was Glorfindel, his golden armor and hair shining brightly in the glow of the fires burning the surrounding gardens in the Square of the King. 

"Melindo..."

Worried green eyes met his, and Ecthelion reached up with his right hand, which Glorfindel gladly took and squeezed tightly.

"Well, it seems we may have one more with us," Galdor said with a relieved sigh. "You did well in bringing him, Tuor."

"He would have done the same for me, as would any of you," Tuor replied and he briefly hovered over the fallen elf. The brave lord of the Edain was obviously glad to see him revive. 

"Tuor saved your life," Glorfindel told him. "He caught you and carried you here."

"My thanks, mellon nin," Ecthelion managed to say and motioned for more water that Glorfindel quickly fetched for him. "What is the matter with my arm?"

"It appears dislocated," Glorfindel said. "And the fire-whip has melted much of your armor to it."

"Not so bad," Ecthelion tried to chuckle and managed to find his balance to sit up on his own, but Glorfindel still held an arm to his back to support him. 

"Do you know where to Maeglin is, Ecthelion?" Galdor then asked.

"I killed him," Tuor answered before he could answer and the assembled lords stared at the Adan in shock and a momentary horror. "He made for my home and threatened to throw my son from the wall. Idril fought him well until I arrived. He made to kill Eärendil and I threw Maeglin to the valley instead. Idril says he is the one who has betrayed the city and that he did it to claim her."

Silence met Tuor's explanation and the lords were speechless while the words sank in on the terrible charge Tuor made, and eventually a few shook their heads in dismay. Ecthelion hung his head in grief at all of those who had already died and suffered because of Maeglin's selfish choices. Glorfindel held him closer and leaned his forehead upon his, reaching for a tender kiss between them. 

A roar interrupted the meeting and soldiers at the various entrances to the square cried out as arrows rained down upon them once more. It could not be missed: the sound of creatures battered at the barriers erected to keep them out rang through the air. The lords all rushed to assist at the passages in all cardinal directions, since the city was assailed all at once in another effort to break through.

Glorfindel stood and looked to him, "Stay here, you are in no way to fight yet. Keep yourself hale henceforth."

With a passionate kiss, Glorfindel held his face to his by the nape of Ecthelion's neck. The dark-haired elf smiled at his words, remembering a promise made long ago. They did not need to say the words of their love: they knew it well already. At first he did as he was bid, but managed to get to his feet by leaning upon one of the fountain ledges. With effort he stood up straight and was able to see what happened around him: The battlements were not holding and Tuor was running from each place with Galdor to strengthen them with whatever debris they could find. It was the north that collapsed first just as Tuor and Galdor tried to stabilize it. Another dragon slithered over the pile and set fire to the wooden elements while Egalmoth tried to rally his warriors to the north side, but a wall of flame kept him back. Orcs spilled into the square from beside and underneath the dragon, driving back Tuor as he tried to fend off the fire drake. 

Ecthelion looked to the east where Glorfindel was holding up the barrier using his own body as a support to keep it upright. While doing so, his brave lover was ordering the remnants of his own forces and that of Ecthelion's to get to Galdor and Tuor. Ecthelion knew it would not be enough as soon as the large Balrog entered the square and moved toward Tuor, forcing the man backward towards him and the fountain, the heavy blows taking a toll on the man. Glancing around, Ecthelion found his helm and placed it back on his head. Then he spotted a sword another soldier had left on the ground. Taking up the blade, he staggered as fast as he could towards the confrontation now that the Balrog knocked Tuor to the ground by slamming his shield with such force.

Looking once more towards Glorfindel, Ecthelion saw him meet his eyes. He knew all too well that alarm would sink into the golden-haired lord and he could hear him screaming his name and for him to stop. With every bit of love he had, he tore his eyes away and raised the sword above his head as the Balrog brought down his own blade. Gathering all the strength that was still within him, Ecthelion positioned himself thusly that Tuor lay beneath him, his broken shield raised to fend off the blow that the dark-haired elf had halted. Enough children would become fatherless today and he wanted to make sure that young Eärendil would not be one of them. Swiftly, he pushed aside the demon causing it to fall off balance. With a fierce cry he struck its arm, causing the flame sword to fall to the stone floor, but Ecthelion's own blade became stuck in the limb as well. Then he saw the raised whip in the Balrog’s other hand and realized that he had no other weapon to ward off the strike. 

Calm came over Ecthelion when he realized what he must do. He bent his head and lunged: his spear-point helmet plunging into the Balrog’s chest. The creature roared and screamed above him when he slung his good arm around the furnace-hot torso of his foe. It had to be done and he wrapped his legs around one knee before he put all his weight backward. Many voices were yelling and screaming around him, but only one could Ecthelion recognize as his lover running towards him.

[i]Forgive me, melindo.[/i]

The water of the fountain spring rushed over Ecthelion, initially cool and refreshing. However, once the Balrog followed him, the water boiled and turned to steam around them as both continued to fall. The water burned him at first, but it eventually grew cooler as he continued to sink, the light of the fires growing dim until everything was dark.


	9. Faith

Where are you, Ecthelion? Do you join me with a self-imposed exile as a spirit? Or have you already passed to the Halls of Mandos? I wish I could feel your fëa so that I would know or that I could find some comfort in your death.

I barely remember what has passed in the last day since I saw you fall. I look amongst those I helped escape, thinking I see your face but only finding disappointment. We were together for so long, I do not remember a time without you. I am so alone...

I could not sleep and assigned myself upon the watch even though the others insisted I find slumber. I heard the young prince wish for your flute’s music as he snuggled in his mother’s embrace. He settled well after I sang him a lullaby, but I could not tell him I longed for your song, too.

Everyone here has lost someone dear... I am not the only one. Yet, I find myself so consumed with missing your presence and the image of your sacrifice still playing before my eyes. Sacrifice: that’s what it was. Unselfish and loyal to the last act. All say that is how you lived and I know it is true, I cannot find fault in those traits of yours. I want to be angry with you for not heeding me, but I hate myself for thinking it. Then the grief hits me again, my heart races as if I have been running nonstop for hours, and I find myself short of breath. Why, Ecthelion? Why?

Darkness has come again and we try to flee these mountains. Slowly we move on the treacherous paths: these people are no soldiers used to the patrols of the borders. Women, merchants, a handful of warriors left, and children are what makes up the last of Gondolin.. some of them mere babes clutched to a mother’s breast. 

I cannot forsake them in my grief for you, especially now that we have been found by our enemies again. I understand that now more than ever the decision you made in that short moment that could get Tuor killed... you tried to explain it to me once after the great battle upon the Anfauglith. 

Are you here beside me, melindo? Giving me strength as I climb this cliff? Helping me face this fire demon whose kind brought you your death? They shall all tremble before your name forevermore and I will cry it until my last breath. I feel the fear behind the flames and heat while I beat this monster away from our people. Is this what you experienced in your final battle?

I love you, Ecthelion. I do not know when next I may lay my eyes upon you: I will one day. Your courage is in me, I no longer am afraid of the fire.


End file.
